


The Long, Hot Summer

by Aneas



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-15
Updated: 2010-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aneas/pseuds/Aneas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"People in town will say: 'Look at poor Kris Allen. His father forced him to marry a useless excuse of a man that just happened by,'" </i>Kris wrinkles his lips in distaste, and Adam leans towards the net, his voice rough and hot. <i>"But let me tell you something, honey. I'll make you wake up in the morning smiling."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long, Hot Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Title: The long, hot summer.  
> Rating: Mature  
> Pairing: Adam/Kris.  
> Disclaimer: This portrayal is entirely fictional. Not for profit, just for our entertainment.  
> Word-count: 10 575  
> Warnings: None.  
> Betas: The delicious Lire_casander, Jerakeen and Forsweatervests. They're goddesses, and I worship them.  
> Notes: This story is loosely based on the film with the same name. You don't need to watch it to be able to understand this fic; you just need to know that Adam plays Paul Newman's character, a bad-tempered drifter with a reputation as a firebug. He arrives in a small town that belongs almost completely to a wealthy family, the Allens. When he meets Kris' father ands asks for work, Mr. Allen gets the idea that Adam might be a good match for his son. He invites him to stay at the family house, not caring that Adam and Kris barely manage to be civil towards each other. Besides, Kris already has a beau, and he's determined to fight the attraction he feels for Adam.
> 
> The first phrase Adam says out loud is a quote from the original film.

 

 

 

Adam can't sleep, and he can't even blame the temperature for it. It's fucking hot, but the truth is, Adam is no longer used to sleeping indoors. The crickets sound too far away, and the creaking of the wood of the old house is still unfamiliar to him. It keeps him on edge, unable to settle down. He finally gives up and takes out the mattress to the gallery. A mattress and a pillow, who needs anything else? The scented linen, the pretty papered walls or the lavender sachet in the closet to ward off moths; they're nice touches, but completely unnecessary. Adam never thought that it would be so hard to get used to the good life, especially when he can barely remember the last time he slept in a house with running water. The drifter in him craves fresh air. Since mosquitoes have long ceased disturbing him, sleeping outside won't be a problem, and for once he'll be resting on a soft surface, not on the hard ground. It's ironic. When Mr. Allen offered him the chance to live at the big house, he surely didn't think that Adam would be sleeping on the porch.

When he puts the mattress next to the rail so he can see the stars, he notices the light in the next room. He smiles when he spots the figure reflected in the mirror. Kris is in bed with a white tank top, glasses perched on his nose and a book in his hands. His hair is uncombed, and his appearance is totally different from the seemly one he carries everyday. Adam stares at the arms Kris was hiding under the plaid shirts. Who would have known? It looks like it won't be a chore to follow Mr. Allen's plan, after all. Dude, who's he trying to fool? Adam wanted to get into Kris' pants since the guy picked him up on the roadside last week. Adam spent the whole ride watching his cute jaw and his lovely nose from the backseat while chatting with Megan, devouring Kris with his eyes. Too bad Kris didn't pay him any attention. Adam has wondered if it was due to shyness or plain distaste. That didn't happen with the head of the family.

He met Mr. Allen in town, when Adam was looking for a job. They clicked immediately, unlike he and Kris. After working side by side with Mr. Allen for only five days as part of Allen's General Store's staff, they forged a weird friendship. He seemed to like Adam's personality. They shared the same irreverent sense of humor, and Adam, for the first time in his life, started to think that maybe, maybe, he could stay around for a while. He liked the strong morals and code of conduct the older man had. When Mr. Allen noticed that Adam was sleeping in an empty house on the outskirts of town, he insisted that Adam had to come live in his home, alongside him and his family.

"It's a big house, son, with plenty of rooms. Kim will be delighted to have you at home with us. But beware, she will try to feed you until you burst," he'd said. He was right. The dinner tonight was probably the best he's ever had. But, well, Adam thought exactly the same the night before, and the previous one, and Mama Allen overdid herself each night. Tonight, she actually glowed when Adam help himself to seconds of everything.

He could grow used to this. Living in big house, eating homemade meals, being part of a family. Having roots.

So when Mr. Allen made his proposition to Adam after dinner last night, it felt like icing on a cake: marry Kris and get a big chunk of money in the process. It was perfect. He could stop running aimlessly and finally settle down. No more worrying about money, wondering if he will save enough at the end of the day, or even worse, if somebody will shoot him as soon as he'll hear Adam's surname. Not a bad plan, all in all. Stability, and a cutie to warm his bed. Maybe that's where he was supposed to end up all along.

The only obstacle in his plan is the very same Kris Allen he's supposed to marry. He could look tiny and mellow, all southern charm and soft accent, but he's stubborn like a mule.

Kris sighs, unaware of Adam's presence outside, and turns another page of the book. His frown is absolutely adorable, and Adam decides to stop resisting the temptation. Almost unwittingly he mimics the thick accent of the townspeople when he calls Kris out.

"You look mighty pretty with them readin' glasses on."

Kris is clearly startled when he hears the voice and looks up at the mirror. His eyes open wide with surprise when he sees Adam's reflection. Adam smirks. He wasn't prepared for this situation, but he can't complain when he sees the double take Kris makes when he notices his attire. Or lack of it, thereof. Adam's just in his boxers, it's how he always sleeps, and he knows exactly how he looks without clothes. He's certainly been told enough times. Kris gulps and takes off his glasses, blushing. Adam's smirk grows wider.

"And without them, too."

Kris seems upset, worrying his lip with his teeth. Oh, he's so cute in his bed, white sheets and pillows surrounding him. Adam can't resist teasing him.

"You look so young there in your bed, curled up with a book. Teeth just brushed, and prayers just finished. I bet you were a cute kid. I'm sure you spent all day running around with skinned knees and tangled hair. I bet you had a secret hideout in a tree, where you tucked your favorite baseball cards away."

Only a wall separates them, and this game of being barely the reflection in a mirror is exciting. Adam rests his shoulder on the wall and leans on casually. He pretends not to notice the way Kris' eyes travel down his bare chest. He lazily strokes his stomach, letting the tip of his fingers rest lightly on the waistband of his boxers. Kris' eyes follow the movement; Adam is enjoying this too much. It's almost too easy. He turns and faces the wall, keeping his voice low, because there's only three feet between them, and he knows that if he talks into the wall, Kris will hear him perfectly.

"There will be a fair at the church tomorrow. Put on those skinny jeans you wore yesterday and a white t-shirt, and I'll take you to the river. "

Adam hears the rustle of fabric, and the light disappears. Kris has turned off the light on his bedside table, but Adam knows he's still listening.

"Kris?" He calls. No response. "Kris." He closes his eyes and rests his damp forehead against the wall. "Kriiiiis," he sings, imitating the tone of the teenagers who come every night to call for Megan.

"I know you're listening to me. Come out here. Let's do something crazy, Kris Allen. It's Saturday night, and it's early yet. Let's take your car and get out of here. We can steal some booze on our way and go to the bridge to howl at the moon." Adam hears some movement, but Kris still doesn't answer. A slight breeze brushes his skin and evaporates the sweat collected at the small of his back, giving him a chill. He lowers his tone, making it intimate, seductive. "But if you want some quiet, we can go to the haystack."

Inside, Kris snorts, and Adam smiles when he notices that he's able to read indignation in the way Kris tries to fit better in his bed.

"Aww, I know. You're afraid. You think your elegant boyfriend wouldn't approve. It's not proper," he mocks.

Adam pulls off his body from the wall and walks slowly towards the mosquito netting in Kris' door. He's barefoot; the only noise he makes is the creaking of the wood under his feet. There's tension in the air, and when he puts his hand on the doorknob, he hears Kris' sudden intake of breath. But Adam won't open the door. If that's what Kris is expecting, if he wants Adam inside his room, he'll have to invite him in.

"So much silence. Don't you want me to talk about your Richard? Why not? I like him. I like his manners and his wit. He's such an educated and decorous guy. It was nice to have him at dinner tonight. His conversation is so… compelling," his voice is dripping with sarcasm.

Richard barely talked during dinner. Not even with Kris. Adam knows because he was watching them. He thinks he knows what Mr. Allen actually wants: for Richard to see Adam as a competitor. He expects Richard to give a step forward and definitely claim Kris for himself. That must be the real plan; Adam refuses to delude himself. He knows that as soon as Richard asserts his rights, the old man would be more than delighted to send Adam packing. And hey, he respects a father that cares so much about the happiness of his offspring. Hell, he wishes his own father were more into this nurturing shit, instead of leaving him and Neil a surname that's synonymous with arson in more than six states. He can't really blame Allen for trying to take care of his son.

What he can do is blame Kris for settling. He deserves a lot more than just a lukewarm attraction. Richard Stewart is so…cold.

"Just a friendly advice, though. If you're waiting for him to sweep you off your feet, honey... you're barking up the wrong tree."

The quiet rage in his tone surprises even himself. He tries to backpedal, to recover his cool. His sight is already accustomed to the moonlight and he can see Kris half sitting in his bed, his hand clutching the bedcovers, his knuckles white.

"Did he kiss you goodbye?" Adam asks. Kris blinks once, slowly, and turns his head. "He did. He kissed you, and then he left. Such a fool. I would have stayed with you until sunup. You deserve at least a whole night." That gets him a reaction. Kris looks at him with something between disdain and rage.

"My, aren't you sure of yourself."

"Well, yes; aren't you?" Adam answers, his tone playful.

"No, Mister Lambert. What I am is tired of this conversation," Kris says.

"So prim and proper," Adam teases. "And here I thought we already were on a first name basis, Kris."

"You're wrong," Kris says.

"Pity that. I'm sure your father won't be happy with this… indifference between us."

Kris moves the bedclothes out of his way before he rises from the bed. The old sweatpants he wears hide nothing, and now it's Adam turn to gulp. He's so fucking gorgeous like this. Gone are all traces of the cold accountant that works at Allen's Consulting. He's small and compact, slim in all the right places, and his skin is flawless. Kris comes to stand on the other side of the net and tries to stare Adam down.

"Now listen to me, Mister Lambert. I don't know what kind of bargain you made with my father, and I don't care. I don't have to abide it. I won't." He's even cuter when he's angry, and Adam wants badly to open the door and kiss him blind. He smiles.

"That's not what he said."

"Then that's his problem, not mine. He's used to getting his way. Maybe he can buy you, but I'm not for sale."

Adam puts his hands on the threshold, blocking the already scarce light of the moon. It's an intimidating posture, one he uses to his advantage, but he can see that Kris will refuse to back down. It's better that way; Adam loves a challenge.

He infuses his voice with as much honesty as he can manage. "I can see you don't like me, but you're going to get used to me, sweetie."

"No, I'm not," Kris says.

"Don't be that way. I already have the most amazing honeymoon planned in my head."

Kris just rolls his eyes, like Adam is talking nonsense, and his indifference bothers Adam. So he thinks he's too much for the likes of Adam, does he?

"We will marry. People in town will say: `Look at poor Kris Allen. His father forced him to marry a useless excuse of a man that just happened by'," Kris wrinkles his lips in distaste, and Adam leans towards the net, his voice rough and hot. "But let me tell you something, honey. I'll make you wake up in the morning smiling."

Kris raises his nose up in the air, and looks Adam right in the eye. "Does that line ever work for you?"

Adam suppresses a smile by sheer force of will and moves back. "As a matter of fact, it does. I have been told that cockiness is a big part of my charm."

"I live under my father's roof. I'm as immune to arrogance as I am to your blue eyes," Kris says.

"Well, at least you've got the color right."

"I've got a lot of things right. And the clearest of them all is that _I'm_ going to be the one to decide with whom I'm going to spend my life. Not my father, not you," Kris says firmly.

There's a silence, only broken by some night birds and crickets. Kris' eyes are big and dark in the gloom, and he's breathing shallowly. Adam is still annoyed, so his tone is not as impersonal as he would have liked it.

"All right. Then run. And keep on running, Kris. You better change your name, dye your hair and get lost. Because that's the only way for you to be safe from me." By now, Adam is really angry. He wants to hurt him. "And don't think for a moment that your skinny friend is going to help you, either. He doesn't seem very reliable to me."

"Don't talk about him that way!" Kris says.

"Such loyalty," Adam sneers. "Do you think he's going to take care of you?"

"I don't need anybody taking care of me," he says, but Adam is in a roll and he doesn't stop talking.

"Because he's not going to. How long have you two been fucking? You are fucking, aren't you?" he asks, and Kris' blush gives him the answer. "So… what, in five, six years, has he ever given you the impression that he was ready to tie the knot? Your father is a good judge of character. He thinks that by now, Stewart should have made his intentions known."

"We're not in the fifties anymore; you don't have to get married to have sex." Kris is defensive.

"Believe me, baby, I'm really grateful to God for that. But there are more alternatives than marrying. What about living together? Don't tell me you never mentioned it." If Kris keeps on blushing, he's going to catch on fire. "Wait, I'm sure I can guess what Richard told you. First he wanted to finish college. And then, he wanted to establish himself in town." The way Kris' nostrils flare gives him all the confirmation he needs. "You're running out of excuses, and your father knows it. Admit it, honey, he's not that into you. In my humble experience, when they say that it's not the right moment, what they're really saying is that you're not the right person."

The smell of the bayou, rich and heavy, comes floating from the east. Adam can see Kris trembling, with rage or something darker, and Adam locks eyes with Kris.

"But if you were mine, it would be an honor to be seen with you everywhere, to wear your ring on my finger. I wouldn't let you out of my sight. If you were mine, I would never let you sleep alone. I would spend the whole night kissing your skin. I would caress every fucking inch of your body," he drops his voice off. "I would hold you down and lick you open for me, and I would make you scream, it would be so good." Kris has his hands in fists, pressing against his thighs, his eyes closed. Adam feels his skin burning, bold with the need of reaching out, claiming, _taking…_ "Let me in, Kris, and I'll show you."

Kris shakes his head no, but he takes an involuntary step forward. Adam gulps and tries again.

"You know you want to. It's going to be so good, baby. You'll love it, I promise. I'll take good care of you just…Say you want me. Say it and I'll come inside."

Kris opens his eyes; he looks dazed. He's so close that Adam can almost taste the triumph. His blood is running fast, his skin hot all over, and he puts a hand on the doorknob when Kris closes the remaining distance. The net is the last barrier between them. Adam shivers when the heat from Kris' skin reaches him. This close, Kris smells of bar soap and a tangy combination of lemongrass, cotton, and clean male sweat. The tips of Adam's fingers itch with the need of touching him, and he swallows a moan when Kris plasters himself against the net and it clearly outlines his erection in the old sweatpants. Adam wants to rut against him, even with the net between them, but he forces himself to wait, only a few seconds, only a little bit more…

"Do you want me?" Kris asks, tilting his head to the right, showing off the line of his neck, pale and so tempting, mere inches away from Adam greedy mouth.

"You know I do," Adam mutters.

"But you won't come in unless I invite you, won't you?" he says. Cheeky little shit. As soon as Adam gets his hands on him… He loses his train of thought when he notices that Kris is lightly rubbing himself off against the net. Adam pushes his thigh against him and shudders when Kris moans. The heat almost burns his skin. Adam's throat is dry, and all too soon, breathing becomes complicated.

Kris doesn't shut up. "But you want to come inside, don't you?" When Kris opens his eyes, his pupils are blown.

"Badly," Adam says.

"So you can take care of me, right?" he says, and Adam nods, mute. Kris watches him, and licks his bottom lip once, his tongue quick and sleek. He steps back suddenly, making Adam whimper at the sudden loss of heat. "I think I already told you that I don't need anybody taking care of me."

He's breathing hard, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, and he's stunning in the shadows. The line of his shoulders, his flat stomach, the taunting line of his hard-on tenting the sweats… Adam has never seen anything more beautiful in his whole life. He tries to talk.

It takes him three attempts.

"Well, right now it looks like you could use a helping…hand," he jokes. Kris just snorts.

"I don't need you. Not even for this," he says, grabbing himself through the pants. Adam shivers.

"You're a fucking tease, Kris Allen," he says, after he recovers his breath.

"And don't you forget it." Kris turns and gets into his bathroom, closing the door softly behind him. He doesn't even bang it, probably because his red guitar is against the wall. Oh, Adam is totally going to kill him. But first, he has to pay a visit to his own bathroom.

It seems like mild Kris Allen is a bigger challenge than he thought. The easygoing facade hides a spitfire.

Adam smiles. Looks like this time his experience with fire will come on handy.

 

 _***************************************_

 

 

 _I'm Jewish, and actually a redhead. So what the fuck am I doing here in the August sun?_ Adam thinks. He's in a church's fair. At 12 PM sharp. And, to add insult to injury, it's a Sunday, his only day off. If Mr. Allen wanted him to seduce his son, least he could do is consider it a full time job. Adam could use the money. He needs a new wardrobe, because Kris is obviously not very keen in Adam's appearance. Or at least, he doesn't seem to notice the care Adam puts in his personal grooming. Adam has to admit wearing his totally black ensemble in August wasn't one of his better ideas, but he wanted to look good. Also, they are his newer clothes. Shit, and this was supposed to be an easy job.

From what Kris' father told him, Adam thinks that this Richard Steward is all but yanking Kris' chain, making him believe he is more committed to the relationship than he really is. It should be logical for Kris to be ready to dump the guy. But no, of course he's not. He's the most stubborn, loyal and delicious creature in the whole word. He seems to be determined to wait for Richard. Adam sighs, and walks to the nearest tree, resting his back against it, grateful for the shadow. He gives another bite to his piece of watermelon and looks at Kris.

He's selling pie on the other side of the field. The infuriating little shit has decided to wear his tightest pair of jeans and a form fitting t-shirt, a grey worn almost bone-white. It has an open neck so wide that even at this distance, Adam can see Kris' collarbones. He's taunting Adam; he totally did it on purpose. Adam squints his eyes and thinks: _You're so asking for it, baby, just wait until I have you at my mercy, Kris Allen. Then you'll see what all this taunting gets you._

The pie booth is the busiest, second only to the watermelon stand. Adam thinks that's due to Kris's hotness almost exclusively, because the other waiter is Steward, who is sweating a lot and looks like he would very much prefer to be anywhere else. Adam wonders what's making him so uncomfortable that he can't stop fidgeting and looking around. On the other hand, Kris is his element. It seems like he knows everyone by name, asking about their families, jobs, and in some cases, he even inquires about their illnesses. He's smiling a lot, and that's the reason Adam moved stalking locations, because in his last spot he was only able to watch Kris from the side. Now he barely hears him, but instead he gets the full impact of Kris's megawatt smile. In his opinion, it's a fair trade. Watching Kris smile might become his new hobby.

During a break between customers, Kris turns his head and laughs at something the dickhead asks him. His answer makes Steward's mouth twitch. Still smiling, Kris leans towards him, clearly asking for a kiss, but the dickhead shakes his head 'no' and looks around nervously. Adam can see Kris's ashamed blush from where he's standing. He has lowered his head, and he's trying to pretend he's busy, cutting more slices of pie.

Adam knows that he should be happy Steward is such an asshole, because everything he does wrong helps Adam's cause, but… It's painful watching Kris like this, hurt and embarrassed. It was just a kiss, a little peck on the lips. It wouldn't have killed Richard to give Kris what he wanted.

The pastor calls and everybody starts to move towards the front steps of the church. It's time for the auction. Some of the parish's lovely ladies made picnic baskets to bid on but Adam has no intention of making an offer and doesn't move from his spot. He knows what he wants for lunch, and it doesn't come in a fancy basket.

When the grassy plain is almost deserted, the breeze carries Kris and Steward's conversation from the pie stand. Adam doesn't even try to pretend he's not listening.

"…but you left me alone last year. And you promised, Richard. You said this year you would make the time to be here. I told the pastor we both will take care of the booth. I gave him my word."

"It's not my fault, Kris. My boss really needs me."

"Does she? On Sunday?" He asks, contemptuous.

"I'm sorry," Steward says coldly. _Even this cretin's voice is irritating,_ Adam thinks.

"You're not sorry, don't pretend." There's some kind of staring contest, and finally Steward moves. He tries to put a hand on Kris' shoulder, but the step backwards Kris takes makes it impossible, so lets his hand fall back by his side.

"I'll call you later," he says.

"Richard, don't go." Kris says. The admonition tone is clear.

"Or else? Don't be such a kid, Kris. I said I'd call you later. We'll talk about this tantrum then." He waits for a moment but Kris doesn't answer, and Steward starts to walk until he finally disappears. The jerk doesn't turn back even once, Adam notices.

Kris is watching him go, biting his lip. His hands are grabbing the table's edge, and his whole attitude speaks of defeat.

Once, one of Adam's exes called him a predator. He said Adam had a knack of knowing exactly when and where to strike in order to get him precisely what he wanted. It could be true. Adam has been relying on his instincts for so long, that he has learned to always pay attention to what his guts are saying. And right now, something is telling him that Kris is in a bad place, that it would only take Adam a few words to make Kris cave in.

He doesn't want to do it, thought.

He hesitates, unsure, and that freaks him out. His instinct tells him that the moment is ripe; Kris is his for the taking. So why is Adam second-guessing himself? It never happened before. Kris moves up his hand to rub his neck, and Adam hides a private smile, because he recognizes it means Kris is feeling uncomfortable. It's funny how in just a few days he can already read Kris's non-verbal communication.

And then, with a bang, he realizes why he's been so hesitant: he doesn't want it to be this way. Adam doesn't want to take advantage of Kris' moment of weakness. Principles? At the ripe old age of twenty-eight? It's kind of…surprising.

At that moment, Kris turns his head and stares Adam right in the eye. He blushes, but doesn't blink. He looks uncertain for a moment, and then he reaches for a black bag, starts to walk around the table and turning his head, he calls Adam.

"Let's go," he says. Adam doesn't think twice and follows him. Oh, those jeans are Adam's newest favorites on Kris. He's so caught up in watching Kris's lovely behind that he almost doesn't notice when the pastor wife tries to stop them from leaving.

"Kris, where are you going?" She sounds confused. She looks Adam up and down, and her delicate nose wrinkles in disapproval. _Well, fuck you, too,_ Adam thinks.

"I'm sorry, Adele. Something came up, and I have to take care of it," Kris answers, and he keeps on walking. She blinks once, twice, and then follows Kris with her eyes.

"But… No one's manning the booth," she calls.

"Don't worry. I'm sure Richard will take care of it. His cell number is on the contact sheet. Just phone him; he'll be delighted to help. Adam!" Kris shouts from his car.

Adam smirks, but he tries to hide it when she looks at him. "Adele," he says, nodding. Then he runs towards Kris' convertible and jumps inside.

 

 

 _***************************************_

 

 

Adam is still snickering when Kris stops the engine on the riverbank. Thank God they're under the shadows of some trees. Adam was starting to feel his freckles duplicating and invading his skin.

They haven't said a thing in the whole ride. Adam is determined to let Kris talk when he's ready.

Kris sighs and turns on his seat. He reaches behind them, _Hello, Kris' chest, nice to meet you,_ and brings the bag to the front.

"Beer?" he asks.

"Sure." It's obvious that the bag has some kind of fancy lunch inside. Kris hands him a beer that tastes like heaven to Adam. Not that beer is his poison of choice, but it's fucking hot and now it's not the time to be finicky.

They drink in silence. The river is only seven feet away and its breeze feels wonderful on Adam's skin. There's nobody on sight. When they left the road a mile before, they had to follow the curve that bordered the trees at the waterside. The same curve hides them from the road. It's quiet here, only the sound of some birds, the water and Kris' breathing.

"I'm not that kind of guy, you know?" Kris says. Adam just hums, not even looking at him. Kris takes a sip of the beer and keeps on talking. "I'm not very fond of all this passive-aggressive shit. When something bugs me, I try to solve it, I don't expect people to do it for me."

It doesn't look like he's waiting for any kind of feedback from Adam, so he stays quiet.

"I don't like conflicts. And I like to make people's lives easier. But it doesn't mean that I always concede. I stand up for what I think is important. And this time, it was important."

"The fair?" Adam asks.

"No, the fair is just anecdotal. What's important is what it stands for."

"So the fair is a metaphor?" Adam adventures.

"Pretty much, yeah. I mean, I worked like crazy for it; it's for a good cause. We're raising money for a shelter, so women and kids have a place to stay when things get rough. I like to do things that matter; I- I like to help."

 _Please._ The guy already has the looks. Does he have to be an actual angel, as well?

"He knows it's important to me to do things in church, to give back. Do you want to know something funny?" He asks with a sour smile. "The pie stand is actually sponsored by Richard's office. I volunteered so we could spend the day together. And he wouldn't even stay then. How sad is that?"

"You wanted him to stay there with you even if he was uncomfortable?" Adam is starting to feel like he doesn't understand it, either.

"No, I wanted him to want to stay with me, even if he was uncomfortable," he says, like it explains everything. Maybe it does. In a parallel universe. Where they are both teenagers.

"Honey, you're way complicated," Adam finally says, and Kris just sighs. "We, menfolk, are simple creatures."

"And what am I, chopped liver?" Kris asks, glaring.

"Right now, I think you're acting a little bit emo, sweetie," Adam says.

"Fuck you, Lambert."

"I accept the invitation, thank you very much," he answers graciously.

Kris puffs out. He leaves the empty bottle over the dashboard and takes out another beer for him and another for Adam.

"It must be exhausting having your mind in the gutter at all times."

"What can I say, it's a gift," Adam replies.

They sit together amiably, sipping their beers and watching the river. It's really nice, and that's a surprise. Normally, Adam is all for filling the silences but with Kris, it seems unnecessary. It's like they're attuned to each other, or something, even if it doesn't make any sense because they don't actually know anything about each other. But when Kris sighs and lets his head fall back against the headrest, Adam knows exactly what he's thinking.

"I told you. He doesn't deserve you," Adam says.

"Shouldn't I decide that?" Kris sounds wistful.

"It doesn't work that way. And you know it. You're part of the situation, you're involved. You don't have as clear a view as outsiders do. We are impartial," he tries to explain.

"Yeah, sure. Like I'm going to believe anything my father or you say about the subject." Kris doesn't even try to hide his skepticism.

"You can believe us or not, do as you please. But this wouldn't be a problem if, deep inside, you were sure of him. If this conversation makes you uneasy, it's because you know we're right," Adam says.

Kris looks at him, his eyes serious and concerned. Worried is not a good look for Kris. Adam wants to erase it from him, right now.

"But hey, my offer still stands. Rebound sex is useful in tons of circumstances. It even brightens the skin."

Kris snorts and hands him another beer.

 

 

 _***************************************_

 

 

Half an hour later they're pleasantly tipsy. The alcohol and the heat make Kris pliant and mellow. Adam wishes he were utterly sober so he could appreciate it more.

"I'm hot," Kris says.

"Yes, you are," Adam agrees. Kris frowns.

"No, I mean it's hot. I'm thinking about going for a dip."

"Oh, yes. It's a good idea." It's a fantastic idea, in fact. Adam is totally into undressing hot boys. If there is naked skin and some touching, he's ready to sacrifice his makeup as casualty of war.

"I'm not sure Richard's swimming trunks will suit you," Kris says, thoughtfully. "You're bigger than him."

"In all the places that matter, I am," Adam says, and winks at him. Kris blushes, and Adam thinks for the umpteenth time that he's adorable. "Anyway, we won't be needing swimming clothes, baby."

"Skinny dipping?" Kris sounds half-shocked, half-eager. Adam chuckles.

"I bet you never did it before." Kris shakes his head no, and Adam turns his voice into a purr. "Your ex is such a loser. He had so much time with you and he wasted it. There're so many things I would have done with you…and to you, you can't imagine."

Kris blinks. Then he jolts back. "He's not my ex."

"Sweetie, you know he is. The only thing that's lacking it's the official conversation where you dump him, but you're through. The fair was his last chance. And he blew it."

"But I didn't tell him it was his last chance," Kris says. "It's not fair if he doesn't know it."

"What's the use in warning somebody? You don't get an honest response, then. You're just delaying the inevitable."

Kris looks at him for a while. "I don't like it when you're reasonable. It makes me nervous."

Adam smirks and opens the door. "What are we waiting for?" he says, taking his shirt off and raising an eyebrow. He has perfected the art of undressing with style without poking an eye out with his necklaces. Some people are naturally graceful. Adam works hard so he could pretend to be one of them.

Kris looks doubtful for a while, but he finally gets out of the car and slowly takes his own shirt off.

Gosh, he's delicious. He's tanned and gorgeous and he looks almost edible. He's all golden skin and toned chest, and his arms…his arms are beyond perfect. Adam wants to write lyrics over this velvety tan with the tips of his fingers and tongue. In daylight he's even more mouth-watering than the night before. The sun comes through the leaves and brushes Kris's shoulders and chest with an ever-changing pattern. Adam can't stop looking at him.

"You're staring," Kris accuses, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don't blame me. You're quite the sight, baby," he answers. "I could watch you for hours."

"I'm not that entertaining. And I thought you wanted to swim, anyway."

"You sure you don't want to come here instead?" Adam cajoles Kris, who doesn't change his expression, so he caves. "All right, fine, let's swim."

Adam squats down to deal with his boots, fashionable they may be, but so damn fucking complicated to take off, and when he finishes and stands up, Kris is nowhere in sight. Kris's jeans rest over the back seat, along with the grey t-shirt and battered pair of converse; Adam follows his lead and decides to leave his clothes there, too. He turns towards the river when he hears the splash, and waits until he sees a dark head appear in the water. As Kris starts to swim towards the center of the river, Adam reaches the shore and begins to get into the water. It's cold, and Adam shivers. It'll feel fantastic in a pair of minutes, but right now, it's fucking freezing. He's carefully trying to avoid a big brownish stone when he hears a gasp. He turns his head to the left. Kris is closer that he thought, and he's looking at Adam with his eyes wide open.

"You're naked!" he says before he notices he spoke out loud and closes his eyes, mortified. He's blushing so hard, Adam half fears the water in contact with his Kris' skin will start to boil.

"Yeah. I told you I like skinny-dipping. It's…stimulating," he says. Kris gulps, and turns his head before he opens his eyes again.

"Well-I…so I think I'll…" he tries to talk, but Adam beats him to it.

"You should try it. Maybe you'll like it, too."

"I'm not so sure," he manages to say. He's still not looking at Adam, and this won't do. So Adam moves closer until he's inches away from Kris.

"I never thought you were shy."

"I'm not."

"And yet here you are, blushing like a virgin," he teases, and Kris turns his head to stab him with a look. That's better. Adam wants, needs, Kris's complete attention. "It's time to try new things, Kris. Don't you think?"

He's so close Kris has to tilt his head back to look at him. Adam doesn't close the distance between them; he just smirks challengingly until Kris finally plunges down. When he emerges again, he holds his white underwear in his hand. They don't break eye contact and neither of them reacts when Kris throws the boxers away and they hit the shore with damp sound.

"You're right. Time for new experiences," Kris says, and then he crosses the distance between them and put his cold hand on Adam's neck. Adam lowers his head and Kris presses his lithe body against him, the feel of skin on skin a shock. There's heat and smoothness with so much strength hidden behind. He grunts when his thigh brushes against Kris's hard on, and he can't stop himself for lifting Kris and drawing him even closer to his body, ravaging his mouth without finesse. They're long past grace, at this point. All the foreplay has him keyed up. And for Kris reaction, he's at the same point.

The river should overwhelm any other scent, but all Adam can smell is Kris. His aroma is intoxicating and his taste is addictive. He can sense everything: the scrape of Kris' stubble against his chin, the warmth of the sun over his shoulders, the coldness of the water caressing his skin, Kris's velvety thighs around his waist. Adam is almost drowning in sensation. It's an excess of awareness, like he's experiencing an overload of Kris, clogging each and every one of his senses until the only thing he knows, the only thing he feels, is Kris.

Adam doesn't know if this is his only chance. Kris has proven to be incredibly hard to seduce, and he has a stubborn streak a mile wide. If this is his only opportunity, Adam wants to be remembered. He wants to mark Kris, to ruin him for anybody else. He puts a hand on Kris's lower back, urging him to move against Adam, and the friction makes him moan into Kris's mouth. Drops of water from Kris's bangs leave minuscule trails of cool over his feverish skin, and the hotness of the whole tableau is killing him.

"I want you so badly," he moans, biting Kris's neck. He squeezes Kris buttocks, and sucks over the bite. Kris tenses in his arms, and starts to rut against Adam with sweet abandon.

"Adam, Adam…" he mutters, never stopping, and if Adam wants this to last, he has to do something right now.

"Wait, wait a minute, baby," he tries, but then Kris moves sideways instead of up and down, and Adam has to bite his tongue hard, so he won't come. His blood is pounding in his ears, fast and wild, to the rhythm of… _Tubular bells!?!?_

"What the…" He starts to say but Kris suddenly freezes in his arms.

"Oh, shit," he mumbles, and dislodging himself, starts to wade ashore. Adam catches his arm and tries to stop him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Let me go, it's my father's ringtone. I have to answer," he says.

"Like hell I'm letting you go." No fucking way. If Adam suffers another day more of blue balls, they may shrink and drop off. "And wait a moment. Your father's ringtone is The Exorcist?" he asks, in disbelief, and Kris uses his distraction to move his arm and free himself. He escapes, shouting over his shoulder.

"He came back from the hospital two weeks ago. I have to answer. It must be important."

Adam is not letting him escape so easily, so he follows him. When he reaches the shore, Kris is already answering his cell, dripping wet and utterly gorgeous. Adam stops for a second, drinking in his image. _I'm so tapping this ass,_ he thinks, and smiles to himself.

His grin shrinks when Kris opens the car trunk and starts toweling. No, no, no, no. **No.** No way. Not this time.

In the time it takes Adam to reach the car, Kris has switched off his phone, and has his pants on. He's freakishly fast.

"We're going," he says, bent over and leaning in through the rear door's window, trying to reach for his t-shirt. Adam comes closer and plasters his wet body over Kris' smaller one, trapping him between the car and Adam's chest.

"We're going nowhere, gorgeous. We started something," he says, moving his hips against Kris' ass, "and we're going to end it."

Kris shivers, but doesn't relent.

"We have to go, Adam, it's important."

"No more important than this, babe." He mouths Kris's neck, and rubs his hands over Kris' nipples. Kris whimpers, he so whimpers, but with a quick movement, he elbows Adam's ribs and breaks free.

"Seriously, we have to go. Somebody set the church on fire. They're blaming you."

Damned if this is not the fastest way of killing his hard on. Adam gives a step back, fury running cold through his veins. He should have known. It's always a question of time. It doesn't matter how far he runs: his past always catches him. He should learn to accept it.

Kris puts a hand on his arm. "We'll solve it, Adam. I promise."

"Don't promise things you can't deliver, Allen," he spits. "It makes you even a bigger cocktease."

Kris flinches, but he says nothing. He looks at his feet; then he takes his shoes and sits on the driver's seat.

"I'm going back to town. Are you coming?" he asks.

"What for? Is there anybody there who's going to believe me?" Adam snarls.

"My father trusts you. All my family does, as a matter of fact. But if we're not enough for you, then…" Kris looks at Adam sternly.

Adam doesn't want to go back. But the alternative is staying there, in this little creek, cowardly and totally alone. He has Kris on his side, now. Maybe this time it's different. Maybe this time it will work.

He gives a step forward and takes the towel. He pretends he doesn't notice Kris' relieved sigh.

 

 

 _***************************************_

 

 

 

They can see the column of smoke from miles ahead. When they finally reach the church, bile chokes him. It's always the same. Scorched wood, ashes floating in the wind, the acrid smell of burnt stuff, the vivid color of cinders, and as always, always, the stares piercing him, hotter than the flames, burning his skin and his pride. He's already guilty in their eyes; it never matters if he actually did it or not.

The firemen are already there, working. It looks like the fire is contained. They're just waiting for the last of the flames to die under the hose.

This weird telepathy thing they've got going on between them must be acting again, because Kris puts his hand over Adam's and says, "Are you okay?"

When Adam nods mutely, Kris snorts. "You're not, but you will be."

Strangely enough, Adam almost believes it. Kris smiles at him reassuringly and they get out of the car. Adam raises his chin at the scolding stares and the rude murmurs. He should be used to them.

They are near the booths when a shriek makes them jump.

"Kris!" Mama Allen is running towards them, tears in her eyes.

"Mom!" They hug, and then Adam's throat closes when she releases his son and turns to hug him too.

"Thank god you're okay! I was so scared! I couldn't see you anywhere!" She leans back to give them a stern look without releasing Adam. "How could you go away without warning us? Don't you dare do such a thing again!"

"I'm twenty-five, Mom!" Kris says, mortified, and Adam chokes on a laugh.

"What is that supposed to mean, Kristopher? And why is your hair wet? You're going to catch a cold!" She scolds, and Kris mumbles something and lowers his head. Adam smirks, and then tenses when the sheriff and some guys come near. Mama Allen pats his arm and turn on her heels, her body between them and Adam, and he wants to laugh at the incongruence of this lovely small woman trying to protect him. Must be the hysteria. That's the only explanation.

"I'm glad I didn't dive. It wouldn't do to got to jail with my hair in a mess," he says. Kris laughs.

"Oh, sweetheart, nobody's going to jail. Not in my watch," she says and pets his arm again.

"Lambert," the sheriff drawls. He looks Adam up and down, and it seems he doesn't like what he sees. "Just he man I was looking for."

"Sheriff," he answers, disrespect pouring from his tone. Kris kicks his ankle. When did he come so close?

"Edwin," Mama Allen says, all charm and sunshine. "There's no need to worry about us. We're okay. But I'm sure a lot people over there need help, dear. My, I think I saw Katy O'Connell burn her hands when she went into the church to help your wife."

"Kim," the man says, "this is official business. I have to arrest him."

"On what charges, exactly?" She asks, never losing the smile.

"Well, arson, of course."

Adam opens his mouth, but another kick from Kris makes him close it again. This kicking business is going to get old very soon.

"Don't be ridiculous, dear," she's saying. "Adam wasn't even here when the fire started."

"That's what he says," a man sneers.

"That's what he says all right, and that's also what my son says. And I don't like your tone, Michael Anders." The guy literally shrinks. Her scolding voice is a lethal weapon. Adam wants to be like her when he grows up.

"Neither do I," a deep voice says. Kris father sneaked behind them in some moment.

"Now, Neil," the sheriff tries to say. "You know perfectly well that I have to arrest him. He's a known firebug, a troublemaker. I have to be sure he's not to blame."

"You can ask him whatever you want. But I'm not sure you can arrest him." He comes closer and Adam tenses when he feels Mr. Allen's hand over his shoulder. "See, I consider this boy part of my family already, so…you can ask them both here, or we can call our lawyers. Which one do you prefer?"

The Sheriff makes a face and finally decides to ask. He looks at Adam.

"Where were you at quarter past one this afternoon?"

"I don't know the place's name. It's kind of a creek, down the river. Kris and I were having a beer and chatting."

"We were at Seacrest's creek," Kris says. "We arrived there around half past twelve and we were there when my father called me twenty minutes ago. We came as soon as possible."

"Was he with you all the time?" the Sheriff asks Kris.

"Yes."

"Anybody saw you?"

"No. We were alone," Kris answers. _But hey, Sheriff, if you want some kind of evidence, Kris's soaked underwear must be still around,_ Adam thinks. Yeah, it's hysteria. Adam recognizes it now.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Kris is starting to get angry.

"Enough. If my kid says his boyfriend was with him when the fire started, then that's all." Adam has never been so grateful to the three years he spent with that wicked con man on tour for the southern states. He taught him well to keep his face impassible. Because, boyfriend? That's some news.

The sheriff doesn't look so sure, but then the firemen chief comes closer, taking his hard hat off and rubbing his forehead. He leaves a trail of soot over his sweaty skin.

"I swear to God, sheriff. How many times do I have to warn the pastor that leaving lit candles in front of open windows with floating curtains is a bad idea? Jeez, it's August. It was a disaster waiting to happen."

"You mean the fire wasn't set by someone?" Mama Allen's asks.

"Well, you may say it was set by the priest's stupidity, God forgive me. But it was really an accident. We should be grateful for the minor burns and the material loss."

"Thanks, Matt." The guy nods and disappears. The sheriff clears his throat. "Well, that'll be all, then. Kim, Neil, guys," he says, touching his fingers to the hem of his hat.

"Sheriff!" Kris calls, before he can turn around. "I think somebody ought to apologize."

"What?" Adam gawks.

"No, you're right, Kris. I think Edwin should apologize to Adam, too."

Seriously, Mama Allen is like Adam's favorite person ever, but making the sheriff apologize it's so not a good idea.

"It's not necessary. I'm sure it's not personal, the sheriff was just doing his job," Adam says.

"Of course he was." Mr. Allen is quick. Nobody amasses such a big fortune by being obtuse. He puts a conciliatory arm over the sheriff shoulder and starts to walk. "Edwin, I'm thinking about having a barbeque next Friday, at the lake hut, just for the old gang. We can leave the wives behind, bring some beer and raise our cholesterol levels…"

In a few seconds, they're too far away for them to hear their talk. Adam is still amazed.

"Well boys, see you at home. I have a barbeque to stop. Your father must be crazy if he thinks I'm letting him eat like a pig after his heart attack. Bye!"

She kisses them both and Adam watches her go. She's a force of nature. If he were straight, he would be in such trouble. Hell, he's gay and he can feel the beginning of an epic crush.

He turns to Kris and admits, "I think I have a crush on your mother."

Kris shrugs. "It always happens. She's fantastic. All my friends worship her. They even made her a fan club on Facebook."

After all the tension, Adam feels weak. Being high on adrenaline is great, it helps him think, react; but its aftereffects leave him faint and tired. He knows that this is not moment to take hasty decisions, but he knows what he has to do. He looks in Kris' beautiful eyes. He's going to miss him so much....

"Could you take me to the house?" he asks.

"Sure. Give me a couple of minutes to talk with Katy and some friends I see over there and I'll take you home, okay?" he says.

When Adam nods, Kris gives him the keys to the car, and runs towards some people who're sitting on wood benches in the picnic zone.

Adam gets into the car, deciding on the passenger seat because he's too exhausted to drive. He closes his eyes and leans his head on the headrest. Shit, he's so tired. The breeze tousles his hair. It's a cold breeze. It means rain, he absently register it. Rain is not good when you're drifting, but he likes it. Always liked it. The rain is a new beginning. He has needed a lot of those in his life.

Now that he's alone and feels safe he lets his hands tremble. He can hardly believe what happened out there: Kris' family standing by him, supporting him and treating him like one of them. He shudders. It's too much. He's not used to it. He doesn't know how to react. He's not prepared to deal with good surprises. Bad surprises, okay, bring them on. Things like people actually caring for him, sustaining him? That's new and unexpected.

He doesn't know how to deal with what he's feeling. How to be part of a family. When their mother died he was only fifteen, he couldn't take care of Neil and they took his little brother away. Everything Adam has done afterwards to locate him has been unsuccessful. The records are sealed, if he wants to know where his brother is, he has to save enough money to hire a PI. And that's pretty hard when you have no formal education or way to earn money without having to take off your clothes. All his life Adam has been rolling around the country, wandering from town to town, looking in on other's people's kitchen windows from the outside. Wondering how must be having a family to take care of you.

Now that he knows how it feels, it forces him to reassess what's he's doing to pay all this unconditional support.

By the time Kris is back, Adam has slipped some part of his usual mask on. At least he's not trembling anymore. He counts that as a win. Kris seems to be slightly upset, but as they leave the town behind, he smiles more and more. He even sings along with the radio. He has a nice voice. Soothing and sexy, just like him.

They don't talk until they arrive to the house. Kris leaves his car at the front door and closely follows Adam up the stairs and into his room. Adam doesn't notice until he takes his bag from under the bed and crashes into Kris when he gives a step back.

"What the…"

"What are you doing?" Kris asks. Surely it's a rhetorical question, but Adam tries to answer it anyway.

"I'm going to pack my-"

"You're leaving." His tone is harsh.

"Yes."

"You're running away. It's that what you do when you get close to somebody? Escape?"

 _Oh, don't go there, gorgeous._ He takes a breath. "Look, I'm really grateful for what you all did out there. Your parents were- **are** incredible. They're good people, the kind I thought didn't exist any longer. That's why I can't stay here anymore."

"Why not?"

"You're joking, right?" Adam laughs.

"No. I'm not. Please explain it to me. Why can't you stay here with us?"

"After what happened today you still can't see it?"

"It was an accident! Matt said-"

"It doesn't matter, Kris!" Adam is shouting. The house is pretty big, but he hopes nobody's at home yet. "Maybe this time it was an accident, but it'll happen again. You can't imagine how handy is to have a known arsonist in town. People can use him as an excuse without trouble. Next month, in a year, there will be a fire and they'll come after me. And maybe your mommy and daddy won't be here to help me then!"

Kris bites his lip. "But surely with some time…"

He is so naïve. Adam thinks it must be wonderful to have such faith in the goodness of the people. It's a gift: a precious gift. It should be preserved. That's why he's almost gentle when he says, "Do you know what people actually hear when I say my name? I may say Lambert, but all they hear is arson. That kind of thing doesn't fade with time."

"Change your name, then."

"I may be a sore loser, Kris, but I'm damned if I can't keep what's mine. That's my name; it doesn't matter how much people hate it."

There's some silence, and then Kris softly says, "I didn't hate your name."

"No, baby, you hated me," he jokes. Kris smiles. And to think that he's saying goodbye to that smile…"Damn, it would have been impressive, Kris. You know it, right?"

Kris doesn't try to pretend he doesn't understand Adam. He smirks. "It still could be."

"No, baby. Not anymore. Now I like you."

"You didn't like me before?" Kris mocks.

"You're incorrigible, Kris Allen," Adam says, and they laugh. It feels good to laugh together. "I liked you just fine, but now I respect you. You deserve to be treated with respect. I know I have no right to ask you anything but… please, don't come back with him. You deserve better. Someone devoted to you. Someone who didn't take you for granted."

"Somebody who is with me because he loves me, not because I'm Neil Allen's son. Somebody who didn't cheat on me with his boss," Kris says, sternly. _Oh, no. He can't be serious._ Before he's out of town Adam is so giving Steward the beating of his life.

"Your face!" Kris sounds surprised. "You didn't know. My father didn't tell you."

"Your father knows?" Well, that explains so much…

"He insinuated it, a few weeks ago. He wasn't sure, and I didn't want to believe it, I guess. But- it was harder and harder every day. And then, this afternoon, I knew he left me to be with her. She never comes to the- You know what? I don't want to keep on talking about them. It's over."

"That's why you finally- today at the river, that's why you let me…?"

Kris gives him a condescending smile. "Who's shy, now?"

"Fuck you, Allen!"

"I accept the invitation, thank you very much," Kris answers and it should be funny, but it's not. It's loaded with implications, and it makes Adam gulps.

It's been this way since the moment they met. Some kind of energy, or flow, some tension between them that charges the air and makes it tingle. Adam doesn't know how to describe it: uneasiness, anxiety, agitation… what's clear is that there's something between them that makes them gravitate one towards another. Some kind of awareness that makes Adam know what Kris is feeling, what he's thinking. And right now Kris is thinking about sex, he practically exudes sex.

"Somebody told me once that it's good for the skin."

"You don't have problems with your skin," Adam says lamely. He's too busy watching Kris come closer step by step.

"Neither do you." He raises a hand and touches Adam's cheek. Adam catches Kris's writs and stops his hand. Kris tilts his head.

"Stop." Adam barely recognizes his own voice.

"Why? You wanted to, before."

"Now I'm leaving. I'm not going to stay."

"Oh, but you are." Kris says.

"How can you be so sure?"

Kris drops his voice almost and octave, making it a purr. "Because it's going to be so good, baby, that you won't be able to walk away from my bed. I'm going to take such good care of you that you're going wake up every morning smiling." Adam is not expecting the sudden push, and it sends him backwards over the bed. Kris is like a little monkey, climbing over him to cover Adam's open mouth with his.

He puts his hand over Kris' thighs, and tries to push him away, but Kris is having none of this nonsense. He bites Adam's lower lip, admonishing him, and then raises his head.

"Just so you know: I'm going to keep you. You're going nowhere."

"Am I?" Adam asks, just for the sake of being confrontational.

"Yes. I don't care if I have to tie you to this bed." God, he's so cute when he tries to be stern. In one fluid movement Adam turns back the situation and has Kris flat over the bedcover, Adam's right thigh over Kris' legs, his delicate wrists grasped in Adam's hands.

"I think I like it better this way," he says, and lowers his head to suck on the hickey he left in Kris' neck when they were at the river. From now on, Kris is going to wear Adam's mark all over his skin, plain for the entire town to see. 'Specially the asshole. "You have to dump Steward," he says.

"I did it already," Kris answers. When Adam raises his head, Kris has his eyes closed and is squirming deliciously against his thigh.

"When?" Adam asks.

"I called him from Katy's cell, when you were in the car. He was pretty angry with me for ratting him on with the pie booth. His humor wasn't better when I told him we were through."

"I'm devastated."

"Yeah, I can see." He's smiling. It's the first smile Kris gives Adam, and shit, he's so in trouble. Damn if that smile doesn't make his heart beat faster. This is ridiculous. "And now that you have me at your mercy, are you planning to do something with me?"

"I'm going to make you forget your own name, baby."

"Promises, promises," Kris says, and his laugh is muffled by Adam's mouth.


End file.
